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    Summary

    Aventurine ran.

    He ran, and ran, and ran.

    He did not know anything other than to run. He had been running since the very beginning— he ran from his fears, his nightmares, his responsibilities, his crumbling dreams. He ran from the grief and sorrow that had welled up in his chest for the past several years and did not let go of it.

    He ran through the forest as if he had been living here for all his life. He did not trip on the branches sticking out of the ground from the soil. Almost, but he did not. He couldn’t, not now. Not when the adrenaline coursing through his veins prevented him from slowing down and taking a moment to breathe.

    Aventurine ran till he couldn’t feel his aching legs anymore. Till he saw a shadowy figure out in the forest.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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